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Whither the Poorest in a New Valley City?

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Bill Boyarsky, former city editor and columnist for The Times, is senior consultant for the Center for Governmental Studies and teaches journalism at USC's Annenberg School for Communication. He is writing a biography of the late California political leader Jesse Unruh.

The contrast between the late-morning peacefulness of the Barnes & Noble bookstore in Encino and the dusty misery of a trailer court about 10 miles away illustrates why cityhood would not free the San Fernando Valley from the expensive, hard-to-solve cares of urban life.

In its western portion and hills, the Valley is prosperous. The farther northeast you travel, the poorer its neighborhoods until you reach a portion of Sun Valley where a few families live in a trailer court that resembles a Dust Bowl refugee camp during the Great Depression. The image of this desperately poor court remained in my mind when I sought answers to one of the most important questions of the secession election: How would a new Valley city deal with its haves and have-nots? Would Encino share its wealth with parts of the Valley afflicted with bad housing, junkyards, gangs and other urban ills?

For the record:

12:00 a.m. July 21, 2002 For The Record
Los Angeles Times Sunday July 21, 2002 Home Edition Opinion Part M Page 3 Editorial Pages Desk 1 inches; 61 words Type of Material: Correction
Secession--In an article on the San Fernando Valley published in last week’s Opinion section, a subheading suggested the region generally opposes tax cuts. In fact, the area generally opposes tax increases.

Not that old Los Angeles has done right by the Valley’s poor. The trailer court has existed through several administrations and a City Council that can’t, as Valley secessionists say, see much beyond downtown and rich Westside neighborhoods. A permanent government of business and union lobbyists runs City Hall, and its bureaucrats would rather try to sneak through a downtown football stadium plan than clean up blighted neighborhoods in Wilmington and Pacoima.

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But there are good reasons to be skeptical that a new Valley city would do even as well. The anti-tax Proposition 13 movement grew in the Valley, and the political rhetoric there has long been hostile to tax increases. According to data compiled by the staff of Assemblyman Robert M. Hertzberg, affluent portions of the Valley voted substantially below the two-thirds majority needed to approve a 1997 Los Angeles Unified School District bond. Encino, for example, gave the measure a 55.4% majority, compared with 77.7% in Pacoima. Only huge majorities south of the Santa Monica Mountains pushed the measure over two-thirds.

Moreover, the affluent portion of the Valley has long been a center of the not-in-my-backyard movement that opposes the sort of economic development needed to expand the tax base. Valley NIMBYs even blocked efforts to build Valley sites for the 1984 Summer Olympics, one of the most upbeat and enjoyable events in L.A. history.

At the large shopping center at Hayvenhurst Avenue and Ventura Boulevard in Encino, Bob Rice of Mission Hills was browsing in the Barnes & Noble bookstore.

Rice, who favors secession, is a community-oriented man. He is a volunteer for Guide Dogs for the Blind. His wife trains guide dogs. A Valley resident since 1973, he once was president of the Panorama City Homeowners Assn. He saw that area change from white middle-class homeowners to predominantly Latino, with a heavy percentage of absentee owners, renters and poor people.

“Neighborhoods change very quickly,” he said. To Rice, the phenomenon of rapid change is pushing the affluent Valley to worry about the poorer Valley. Rich and poor neighborhoods are often not far apart, he said, and “my problems are right next door.”

Secession, he said, would permit the new city to do more for the Valley’s poor. “By having the Valley separate, we can concentrate on our needs,” he said. And the new city could afford it. “All the money we put in taxes doesn’t stay in the Valley.”

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Rima Kay of Encino, who opposes secession, said, “I don’t think so. They [the poor] would be on the short end of the stick. Where’s the money going to come from?” Or, as man drinking coffee in a nearby Starbucks put it: “Are you kidding?”

Their skepticism seems justified by the immensity of the task facing government and private enterprise in rebuilding the oldest, most rundown parts of the Valley.

I toured the poorest sections of the northeast Valley one morning with David Gershwin, an aide to City Councilman Alex Padilla, a secession opponent who represents much of the area. In many places, there are no sidewalks in front of homes built in the late 1940s and early ‘50s. While a lack of sidewalks is a source of community pride in more-affluent Valley neighborhoods that want to retain touches of their rural past, in the northeast Valley, the dirt turns to mud and puddles on rainy days, making it difficult for kids to walk to school. There is no sidewalk in front of Padilla’s house, not far from where he grew up.

Many streets have no lights. Some houses still have septic tanks. Auto junkyards extend over acres. There are homes in the shadow of the Bradley Landfill. Nearby, a dirt road leads past old, run-down homes. “Encino will have to pay for Pacoima,” said Eugene Grigsby, director of UCLA’s Advanced Policy Institute, who is studying secession’s potential effect on Los Angeles County for Supervisor Yvonne Brathwaite Burke.

Fred Gaines, chairman of the Valley Industry & Commerce Assn., a major voice for Valley business, said the new city would have the means for the wealthier areas to subsidize the less fortunate. “Absolutely,” said Gaines, whose organization has not yet taken a position on secession. “The [Valley] economy has matured to the point where it can support a city. A generation ago, it was the bedroom part of the city; now it is not.” Secessionist advocate David Fleming said the new city would have the desire, as well as the means. “The poor are not being taken care of by Los Angeles,” he said. “A lot of people who live in the hills are more concerned about the poor.”

Jack Kyser, senior vice president and chief economist of the Los Angeles County Economic Development Corp., agreed that the Valley city would have “a pretty decent economic base.” But, he said, “restoring the poorest part of the city is not cheap, and getting a buy-in from all the community is not easy.”

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“This [the new city] will not be a young ingenue like Irvine,” he said. “This city has some miles on it.”

Some miles, and the same old L.A. political system of 15 council districts and a mayor. Most of the votes electing the mayor would come from affluent areas, just as they do in present-day Los Angeles. There would be fierce competition for scarce resources. Where, for example, would the new city find money for a disaster response operation equal to the splendid job done by Los Angeles firefighters and police officers during the 1994 earthquake, which hit the Valley hardest? Raise taxes? Approve big retail developments and auto malls to bring in sales tax dollars? The Valley’s anti-tax history is too strong for that, as is its NIMBY tradition.

And you can bet that a permanent government of lobbyists, bureaucrats, campaign consultants and other hangers-on would take over the new city hall. Actually, the downtown crew would merely establish branch offices, most likely in fine Ventura Boulevard office buildings a short drive from Van Nuys City Hall.

Valley secessionists should explain just how a government formed out of this tired old mix would do more for Pacoima and Sun Valley than the current City Hall has done.

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